Alone
by Pinned back Wings
Summary: It all went downhill after her sister's death, she was terrified and scared - who where these two men and what exactly was chasing her? Where could they even begin to help? Sam/OC Rating is liable to change. Third genre is romance.
1. 001

**Alone**

**[001]**

**Poor Sister**

_**Brief Summary:** It all went downhill after her sister's death, she was terrified and scared - who where these two men and what exactly was chasing her? Could they even begin to help? Sam/OC_

Her only choice was to run, run like a bat out of Hell. She didn't turn around or look over her shoulder as she weaved in and out from between cars, and suddenly as she rounded the last car there was a loud, ear-piercing scream that reared from behind her; she tripped over her own feet at the sudden noise. There was no way to describe the God awful sound other than a mixture between a dying baby bunny and a screaming woman.

Sweat poured down her face and beaded off her shoulders, after picking herself up off the floor she pushed herself of one car and on another until she reached the end of the backalley parking lot. She had never run harder in her life. She was running like her life depended on it, and it probably did.

No, _scratch that_, it did.

As soon as she rounded the corner, she pressed herself against the wall, her heart beating erratically in her rib cage. She gripped at her belt, her knuckles turning white, and silently prayed. Tears dribbled down her face as she choked on a sob rising in her throat.

A kick of a can is what made her swallow her tears and heart wrenching sobs of anxiousness.

A snap - a crumble - of some leaves and crinkle of newspaper beneath someone's feet, and that's when she covered her mouth with the back of her hand.

A silent whisper, "_it was all your fault_." She breathed shallowly, gripping her belt tightly, tighter than before. She had never prayed so hard before either.

_Please don't find me_, she repeated it several times before she heard a faint hiss just next to her.

"_Found you_."

A frightened scream ripped from her throat as the person that had been stalking her grabbed and twisted her. She gapped at what stood in front of her, and before she could say anything it opened it's mouth and screamed.

Blood seeped out from her ears and the two screams intertwined as more blood crept out.

That's when it happened.

Her eardrums popped.

* * *

I lay in bed, perfectly still, coiled up into the fetal position with the thick covers over my head. Nothing but the sound of my erratic heartbeat seemed to calm me. Placing my hand over the beating, and gripped the front of my shirt and bit my bottom lip. And cried.

At first it was sullen tears that slowly turned into choking sobs that stuck in my throat.

"Honey?" There was a light knock on the door, and it slowly started to creak open, "Oh, my baby girl." It was my mother, but I didn't dare remove the sheets from over my head. The bed sunk down beside me and I felt her hand stroking my back.

"Hailey's death has been hard on all of us, your father especially, but I can't stand to loose both of my daughters." Resentfully, I pulled down the sheets so my mother could see my red beat face and swollen eyes.

"Oh Marilyn." She pulled me into an embrace. You know, when I was little I resented my mother naming me after her favorite actress: Marilyn Monroe. My older sister was named after our late grandmother, and what did I get? Some blonde bimbo's name that was only known for her breasts and red lips; however, in this moment I cherished the name.

We sat there for what seemed like an hour until she pulled back and dabbed the corner of her eyes.

"You need to get dressed, the funeral is in a few hours. Your Aunt Claudia and Uncle Ben are driving up from Arizona for Hailey… Please, just smile for me okay?" She rubbed my cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs and smiled a sad smile before she got up from my bed and brushed off the invisible lint from her plain black dress.

And she exited the room, leaving me alone once again.

* * *

I stood outside the white, pristine church with the white picket fencing and beautiful hedges. The steps leading up to the double wooden doors, which were being held open by wooden pegs, were lined with red felt carpeting.

I was leaning against my old, orange Camaro, pulling a cigarette to my mouth and taking a large puff. I had managed to wrestle my burly, red hair into a neat bun and some bright red lipstick to my mouth. However, all the use it was giving me was imprinting itself on the end of the white cancer stick.

I flicked the cigarette to the ground and grounded the burning bud into the asphalt with the heel of my black heel. I never thought in a million years I'd be at my older sister's funeral.

With people pitying me and my parents, and I never thought for a second that I'd actually be crying over the bitch. The bitch that made everyday a living Hell, the bitch that constantly burnt her with her own cigarettes, and that bitch was her older sister; family was family no matter what.

I pulled out the pack of cigarettes from my coat pocket and fingered another out, lighting it up.

Blowing out smoke, I pushed myself off the door of the car only to be met with two men. One was taller with an innocent look on his face, but his eyes gave away the pity that she had been getting all day. The second guy was shorter, but built; the type of guy her sister usually went after.

"Can I help you?" I asked, my voice slightly husky from days of crying and the rough smoke that I've been inhaling for the last six months. The shorter man stepped forward, a handsome smile on his face and a out stretched hand.

"I'm Eric Bloom, and this is my friend Rudy Sarzo, we went to school with your sister." I shook his hand; extremely rougher than what I had imagined.

"My sister never mentioned you two, but I guess she really didn't talk to me a lot." I tried to smile at him, but it faltered and my eyes switched over to Rudy. My mind raced over the thoughts of her sister yelling at her, never once talking about her life outside of home.

"It's a pleasure to meet you two, the funeral is about to begin; I'm sure you can go socialize with her other college friends as well." I started to walk away, but Eric pulled me back. I narrowed my eyes at him and shrugged his hand off of me; I didn't like being manhandled.

"Is there something I could help you with?"

He raked his eyes over my body, and I saw Rudy nudge his friend with his elbow, harshly.

"We just wanted to know what happened to Hailey, no one will tell us; do you know?"

_Please, anything but that_, I thought silently as I scuffed my shoe into the ground and pulled the cigarette up to my mouth once again. It was already half gone and I looked at it sadly.

"You can read about it in the newspaper if you want."

"Please," it was Rudy that talked this time, his eyes wide and his eyebrows downturned, "she was a good friend, we just want to… know what really happened."

I wanted to scoff, I wanted to push him away and stalk into the church to see my parents, but I didn't. I opened my mouth and the words just vomited forth, "she was supposed to be going to a party. She was supposed to come back right afterwards, but instead she took a detour to her boyfriend's house," she spat the word boyfriend like it was poison, "and the next thing I know my sister is dead. Her eardrums were popped and her eyes were blood shot. Is that enough for you? Or would you like to hear about her face?" I was almost panting, the anger boiling to my skin, "it was stuck. She was screaming when she died, in pain, in agony; I don't know. All I know is that she is dead and you asking stupid questions won't bring her back, or bring comfort."

I flicked the cigarette on the ground, not even bothering to finish it, and high-tailed it towards the church.

**Author's note: this is only the beginning! I hope you enjoyed~**


	2. 002

**Alone**

**[002]**

**Poor Mother**

_**Brief Summary:** It all went downhill after her sister's death, she was terrified and scared - who where these two men and what exactly was chasing her? Could they even begin to help? Sam/OC_

It had been a week since my sister's death.

I had gone out the previous night with some friends from school, lost track of time, and woke up with a Hell of a hangover. I was hammered, having slammed back more than my fair share of shots, and from what I remembered I was dancing on the bar before Missy, my close friend, pulled me off and drove me back to her apartment; I fell asleep there around four in the morning, by the toilet bowl.

For the last week, alcohol had been my escape from reality. Some people have sex, eat their feelings, whatever they want, and others use drugs, and cut themselves; I drink, always have and always will.

Now, I was on my way home. My head was pounding and my hands were clam-y and gross as I grasped the steering wheel. I could even tell that my eyes were blood shot from the stinging and aching beneath my eyelids.

When I pulled into our perfectly swept driveway, I pushed back the drivers seat so it lay flat and I stretched out. I don't remember much from last night, just bits and pieces. But I do remember drinking and flirting excessively.

I rubbed my temples in frustration and pulled the seat back up, pulled the key out of the ignition and started towards the front door.

**First suspicious thing I ignored: the door was cracked open.**

I walked in the foyer and slipped off my heels, "I'm home!" There was no reply and I took that as my mother was still sleeping. My father had left us after Hailey died, saying it was too much for him to handle. I suspect he moved back to North Carolina with his sister, or maybe with his mom, my grandmother. Either way, having lost her precious daughter and then her husband, my mother was in a bit of a rut, a depression if you will.

**Second suspicious thing I ignored: there was blood on the floor of the living room.**

When I walked over towards the living room, I automatically fell onto the couch and sighed into the cushions. Lavender had been my mother's favorite scent since "she could remember". So she sprayed it mindlessly all around the room and house, for God knows why.

**Third suspicious thing I ignored: fingernail marks on the wooden steps leading upstairs.**

After thirty minutes, I was getting worried. Usually mom would've woken up by now and come downstairs in the purple bathrobe with messy hair, and a cracked smile.

I started up the stairs and called out to her.

No response.

So, I casually opened the door to her room and noticed the lump under the covers. I smiled to myself, and remembered when Hailey and I would wake up extra early just to come into our parent's room and jump on them. It was the mindless kid things that they both enjoyed when they were younger, that's what she wanted to remember her sister by, not the bitch that replaced her after high school. I shook my head of those thoughts and smiled lightly.

I didn't necessarily jump on my mom this time, but I flopped over her body.

It was odd. She didn't respond.

"Come on Mom, I know I should've called, but I didn't…" Something was sticky on my stomach, and I rolled over to feel the fabric of my shirt wet. I felt the substance and brought it up to my face. It was red, and sticky. Eyes widened, I pulled back the covers and screamed bloody murder.

* * *

By the time the police had gotten there, there already was a circle of neighbors surrounding the house, gossiping. One of the EMTs was looking me over, and then covered me with a fuzzy, orange blanket. I didn't even thank him as he walked away to talk to the sheriff.

I felt like my whole world was numb. First my sister, and then my mother? It was too much of a coincidence, and I didn't believe it for a second… and seeing my mother like that. All life void from her eyes and her jaw unhinged, like she was screaming for her life. Dried blood caking her face and neck, and wet blood drenched the bed. I tried to get the image out of my head, but shaking my head wasn't going to work. That image would always be in the head as long as I was alive.

* * *

"I already told you: I came home from spending the night drinking with Missy Schultz, got home and found my mother like… like that!" I practically yelled at the sheriff, and he didn't believe me; he had that sorry look on his face, the face that asked silently if I was lying.

"Marilyn, we know your mother was having a hard time with Hailey's death and your father's departure. Are you sure it wasn't suicide…?"

"Her ears were bleeding, just like my sisters. Her face…. Her jaw." The image was fresh in my mind and for the first time in a week, I cried. I wailed and sobbed as he stepped out of the room to give me some 'space', even though I knew he was on the other side of the mirror. He had been questioning me all day, and it was already well past midnight.

I started hiccuping when the door was pushed open. When I lifted up my head, I ran into the person's arms. My father was standing there, wearing his usual wife beater and blue Levis with his steel toed boots. His dark hair pushed back, the dark circle incased his normally bright blue eyes, and a sad smile twitched at his lips.

"Oh Mari," he started, but I silenced him with my cries and pleas.

"Please, I don't want to talk about it. Please, please, please." I was begging him and clinging to him as we walked out of the police station. People stopped and stared at us, and some people shouted sympathies to me.

My Father just flipped them off and opened the car door for me. I was still crying as we drove away from the police station. I hardly noticed Eric and Rudy standing outside the station, leaning against an old Chevy Impala.

* * *

We stopped outside a dirty motel on the edge of town. My Father motioned to me to that he'd be back in a few moments and not to move. I nodded my head and wiped away the tears as he walked into the lobby.

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of his Ford pickup and watched the highway as cars rushed back every few minutes. A black shiny car pulled into the parking lot, and I watched until the door to the pickup opened. I wiped the tears and snot with the back of my jacket's sleeve.

"We have room 207 Mari," he pulled me from the car and practically dragged me to the room. He pushed me inside the room, ordered me to go take a shower, and then left.

I fell onto the bed and stared up towards the ceiling. Flashes of my mother's face were in my mind, and I wanted to shake it away, to stop it; however, it didn't stop.

I re-watched myself miss all the things that would've indicated she was dead. That she was murdered the same way my sister was.

I was guilty. I could've saved her if I had arrived home the night before instead of drinking. I sobbed into the crease of my elbow as the snot decided to start running out of my nose once again.

"Could my life get any worse?" I asked loudly.

And it suddenly did. The door was kicked down and two people came rushing in, guns drawn. I jumped, eyes widened, and screamed deafeningly. It had been Rudy and Eric from my sister's funeral. Rudy motioned for me to be quiet, but instead I ran towards the bathroom and locked the door behind me. Adrenaline rushed threw my veins as one of them pounded on the door.

"Marilyn, open this door right now! You're in danger!" I could tell it was Rudy; he had a softer toned voice.

"Yeah from you psychos!" I called back, looking around the bathroom for a way out. I pushed back the shower curtain and saw a small, distorted window. I might be small enough to fit through the window if I sucked in my gut and wiggled.

"Marilyn!" It was Eric; his voice was harsher than Rudy's, "You've got to believe us, you're in danger from something that's been stalking you."

I was busy pushing the stubborn window open, almost slipping on the tile in the tub, "Stalking me huh? Might it be you two?" I almost screamed in glorious victory when the window popped open.

Eric groaned, and suddenly the door was jammed, "if you don't open the fucking door I'll open it for you!"

"Dude, Dean, come on. She's lost her family basically and we just barged in with guns pointed at her! Give the kid a break."

"Sam, a fucking _Banshee_ is after her. They're supposed to be a sign of death, not the cause of the death. Something must have seriously made this bitch mad."

I was half way out the window when the door was slammed back into the wall of the bathroom. I screamed and wiggled harsher, and I felt the metal frame dig into my skin. One of them grabbed my ankle and tugged me back in, but I braced myself with my elbows. They hit the window frame, keeping me outside the window.

One huffed and tugged again on my ankle, but I kicked suddenly, hitting one in the face.

"Shit!" He stopped tugging on my ankle and I made my way out of the window, "Sam! She's getting away!" The motel door was made a welcoming matt and a tall figure stood at the corner of the building suddenly as I was getting off the dirt.

"Marilyn, we're trying to help you!"

"Help me?" I questioned harshly, "Help me! You had a gun drawn on me earlier!" I didn't say any more when I turned and started running away from Rudy, Sam, whatever his name was.

So interesting fact: I'm only 5'3", and about 130 pounds. Rudy/Sam, probably a good 6'1" with about a hundred pounds on me.

Summary: his strides were longer than mine and he was catching up _fast_. My shoes flew off my feet as I willed myself to go faster, and soon I hit the pavement of the parking lot.

Pain shot through my ankle, but I pushed faster.

"Marilyn!" Rudy/Sam yelled after me. I didn't turn or look back as I bounded towards the highway. I'd rather jump in front of an on-coming car than get held at gunpoint by two maniacs; however, before I could execute my brilliant plan a black Impala pulled in front of me, screeching before coming to a stop. It rested not three feet between freedom and me.

Where the hell were the motel employees?

I turned, pivoting on my heel, but was met face to face with Rudy/Sam. He was panting, hands on his knees and his hair clinging to his forehead.

"Tired already Sammy?" Eric/Dean mocked as he, almost literally, threw me into a motel room. It wasn't 207, the room my father rented out, and it was filthy.

I scrambled to examine my surroundings. Sam, as I learned was his real name, came in and shrugged off his jacket.

I'm not going to lie: I was scared.

They started pulling out guns from their belt loops. 9mm, odds and ends of blades, and even a shotgun; I screamed loudly until Eric/Dean covered my mouth with his disgusting hand.

"Listen Marilyn, if you weren't part of this shit fest, I'd have left you at your house and your normal life. But you're apart of this shit fest and whatever your father dragged into your life."

I looked at him scared, heated, and curious.

"If I let go, you promise not to yell?"

I nodded my head. I've watched the movies and what happened to people that lied to kidnappers. One sound: BANG.

He reluctantly let go when Sam sat next to me. I shied away, not totally wanting to touch either of them. Something snapped inside of my head: _I shied away!_ This was not the time to get all gushy, especially to my kidnappers! Wasn't this what they called Stockholm's syndrome? Could it affect me this early on? I haven't even spent an hour with these men and I was…

"Look, believe it or not we're trying to help you Marilyn," Sam started quietly, "what killed your Mother and Sister is known as a banshee."

I looked at Dean, who was peaking out the window, pushing the curtains back with the barrel of his shotgun.

"Are you shitting me? A banshee? Look am I suppose to really believe that?" I scoffed, tears forming in my eyes, "Look, just let me go and I won't tell anybody, I promise but please!" I started to grovel, "I don't want to be pulled into your delusion."

"Delusion?" Eric/Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow at me, "you've seen your mother's face and disposition when she died; you think something human could do that? All that?"

The images flashed through my head. The blood, all the blood that was on the bed, and her face… Oh her face! Jaw broken and unhinged with her teeth pulled out and swollen tongue. Her eyes were rolled into the back of her head and dried tears streaked her face.

I whimpered pathetically and left snot leaking from my nose as tears started to fall.

"Nice going Dean," Sam said sarcastically. Dean just focused on the amount of snot dripping from my nose, "damn, just get her a tissue will ya'?"

Sam handed me the box of tissues and I used about ten of them before I sniffed up the rest and looked at the two worried men. Dean was leaning against the window, shotgun close to his chest, while Sam lightly patted my back, attempting to be comforting.

"Fine," I spat, "say I believe you, what do we do?"

"What do we do?" Dean mocked, crossed his arms and scoffed, "we do our damn job and you sit here like a good lil' princess."

"Your job?" I asked, blowing my nose again. Sam stopped comforting me, which I almost missed.

"We hunt down things like the son-of-a-bitch that's been killing your family; one by one."

Processing information…

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"What?"

**Author's note: forgot to mention this is set during season one, but Marilyn won't be joining the boys on their adventures just yet so enjoy the brief semi-normalacy here! hah! Review, and hope you've enjoyed!**


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